


define dancing

by honey_butter



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Gilear And His Yogurt Related Injuries, Making Out, Other, Practice Kissing, as they usually are in my fics, defining what dating and kissing means on a personal level rather than a societal level!!, fortnite, how could i forget the most important tag, oh also fabian and riz are both trans, riz is also slightly misinformed about things, riz is oriented aroace, so while this has just so much consent theres a slight cheating aspect, this is tagged as other because its a form of qpr babey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 12:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30139239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_butter/pseuds/honey_butter
Summary: “You wanna practice?” Riz asks.Fabian chokes. “What?”“Like, practice? For Aelwyn? I mean, I don’t think I’ll be able to tell if you’re good or bad at it or whatever, but.”Riz, Fabian, kissing, conversations, and a very poorly timed injury.
Relationships: Riz Gukgak & Fabian Aramais Seacaster, Riz Gukgak/Fabian Aramais Seacaster
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46





	define dancing

**Author's Note:**

> me: i'm going to write a really short, fun fic about practice kissing  
> also me: *writes a fic about the complexities of aroace/allo relationships*
> 
> anyway, this is like 30% tussling, 40% banter, 20% gilear, and 10% kissing and discussing how hard it is to define what relationships mean in a society where everything is so this or that. obviously, because this fic is about defining relationships on personal terms, lots of people are aroace in other ways or have other feelings about what being aroace-spec is like. i just want to make it clear upfront that i'm not saying this is the only way to be aroace. aroace people who are romance-repulsed or don't want to be in a relationship are _so_ incredibly valid, and this is just one look at how that spectrum can interact with relationships.
> 
> the title is define dancing from the wall-e soundtrack because it Felt Right, go listen to that song its so sweet

“Ugh, this is so embarrassing.”

“You’re literally playing Fantasy Fortnite but continue.”

Riz is sprawled on Fabian’s bed, trying to get some homework done but getting distracted by said Fantasy Fortnite sounds and Fabian’s  _ extreme _ levels of trash talk. Reflexively, Riz feels bad for the eight year olds he’s playing against, but it doesn’t sound like they’re being any nicer, if Fabian’s near constant roars of outrage are anything to go off of.

Fabian has paused the game, though, which  _ also _ made Riz stop paying attention to his (chemistry, boring) homework.

“No, but this is like actually embarrassing, The Ball. Fantasy Fortnite is  _ popular, _ it’s a  _ popular _ game. You’re just too uncultured to understand.”

“One, Fortnite was popular, like, two years ago. Two, please just tell me. I have to… uh, do something with significant figures maybe.”

Fabian swivels around to look at Riz. He’s got these big, dumb-looking headphones on, even though he’s using his computer speakers for “immersion” or whatever, and Riz has to remind himself that he wears a suit to school everyday so he can’t really judge what’s dorky enough to laugh at.

“One, you’re still uncultured,” Fabian says, raising one finger, and then another. “And two, you have to promise not to judge me.”

Riz gestures at himself, “On what grounds would I judge you?”

“Fair, The Ball, fair. But you still have to promise.”

“Yes, I promise.”

And Fabian actually looks embarrassed, somehow. Riz considers his interest officially peaked.

“This is bro code stuff, okay, The Ball? You break the code you’re out of the bros.”

“You can’t kick me out of the bros, Fabian, I worked hard to be here. I cut my boobs off to be a part of the bros.” Riz sits up better, scooching so he’s within supporting-arm-touch distance to Fabian. “Seriously, though, it’s okay. You can tell me. I won’t make fun of you.”  _ Although I’m kind of wondering how we got from Fantasy Fortnite to this, _ he doesn’t say it, but he thinks it really hard so that’s basically the same thing.

Fabian slides the headphones off of his ears, and looks away from Riz. “Gods, this is so embarrassing. Okay. Aelwyn said that I’m… a bad kisser.”

Riz kind of pulls up short, hand hovering in the air as he debates whether or not this warrants a supporting-arm-touch. “First, thank you for telling me. But also, uh,  _ why _ are you telling me?”

Fabian rolls his eyes and reaches up to tug his headphones back on. “It’s stupid, whatever.”

“Hey, no. Wait. What?” Riz decides against the arm-touch and reaches out to push Fabian’s headphones off again. “Why would she tell you that?”

“I don’t know,” Fabian shrugs, still not looking at him.

“Isn’t she your girlfriend? Shouldn’t she, uh, have the decency to not tell you those things?”

Fabian shrugs again.

Riz huffs. It’s not that he doesn’t like Aelwyn, he likes her just fine, but he’s definitely not surprised she’d say something like that to Fabian. Aelwyn isn’t… healthy for Fabian. Fabian isn’t healthy for her either, and Riz is honestly surprised at how long they’ve lasted. Not that he’d say that to Fabian, of course. He values Fantasy Fortnite homework time too much to jeopardize it by mentioning the elephant in the room.

“Well, that sucks,” Riz finally says, when he realizes Fabian isn’t going to provide any more details.

“Yeah.”

“You’re not giving me anything to go on here, Fabes.” Riz reaches around and pulls Fabian’s headphones fully off, grinning when Fabian reaches out to grab his arm.

“Hey! These are expensive, The Ball, don’t mess around with them.” But Fabian’s looking at him, at least, and smiling now. Riz tries to tug the headphones even further away, but Fabian’s got his arm trapped in a vice grip and he’s just so much stronger than Riz will ever be.  _ “The Ball.” _

“What?” He twists his arm, trying to get free but only tangling the chord further.

“The Ball, stop. Hey, stop, The Ball, cut it out.”

“What? I’m not doing anything.” Riz keeps twisting his arm, tugging and pulling and the headphones are swinging through the air with muffled clicking sounds and Fabian’s whole arm is getting wrapped up in the chord.

“You  _ so _ are doing something, The Ball. I’m losing circulation in my arm, ow, ow,” Fabian pulls a face that Riz recognizes from battle and he immediately stops tugging on the headphones.

“Are you o—  _ Hey!” _

Using Riz’s lapse in judgement, Fabian lunges forward, tearing the headphones from his hand and pushing Riz back onto the bed in one fell swoop. He keeps a hand on Riz’s chest, pinning him down as he stands up, smiling.

“Admit defeat, The Ball.”

Riz hisses up at him—or, well, as close to a hiss as he can get when he isn’t actually angry—and kicks his legs up, trying to dislodge Fabian’s arm.

“It’s funny that you think you can still win.”

Riz wiggles so that his tail gets dislodged from under him, and swings it into Fabian’s face, whacking him right in the eyes with the fluffy part. Fabian flinches, reflexively, and Riz uses acrobatics to drag him down by his now-relaxed arm. He hooks his legs up around Fabian’s back, and flips them so that he’s grappling Fabian onto the bed. Not that this’ll last long, but it’s nice to try.

“It’s funny that  _ you _ think you can win at all.”

Fabian splutters, “Oh, I’ve got a headphone flail with your name on it, The Ball.”

“Really? Your expensive headphones? You’re really gonna use those to— Oh, okay. You are.  _ Hey! _ Ow, ow. Fabian,  _ ow.” _

_ “Aha!” _

They tussle for a while, Riz fighting to keep Fabian pinned down, and Fabian not really trying to knock him off, focusing instead on hitting him with the headphones. It ends when Riz rolls over backwards onto the ground to avoid a swing at his head. He falls halfway onto Fabian’s dumb, fancy gamer chair, and cracks his elbow on the floor.

“Ouch.”

“The Ball, are you okay?” Fabian asks, pushing himself up from the bed, but his concern is undercut but the laughter in his voice.

“I’m fine,” Riz says. Fabian kicks him in the gut.  _ “Not that fine.” _

“Looks like I win.”

“Absolutely not.”

Fabian tries to kick Riz again but he rolls, getting himself more tangled in the chair’s legs.

“Stalemate, then,” Riz says.

“I’m the only one standing!”

“Yeah, and that can easily be changed.” Riz grabs at Fabian’s leg in order to prove his point.

Fabian pulls a face and tries to shake him off. “Fine, fine. Stalemate. You want a hand up?”

“Nah, I’m good down here,” Riz says, sprawling out like a starfish on the ground. “Why is your carpet so nice?”

Fabian scoffs, in his richboy way, and jumps back so he’s sitting on the bed again, “Why is your hair so nice?”

“What?”

“What?  _ A-ha,” _ Fabian says, laughing again.

Riz blinks up at the ceiling. Fabian’s got a really nice starmap up there; all gorgeous lettering he’d done himself and constellations he'd charted with his parents during his early childhood on the seas. Riz knows, from many sleepovers spent in that bed, that the stars glow with a permanent Light cantrip.

“I’m sorry about the Aelwyn thing,” Riz says.

He hears Fabian sigh. “It’s really whatever, The Ball. I’m just not sure what I can do about it.”

And. Okay. Riz is really smart. He’s analytical and logical and all those other things any self respecting detective should be. But. Occasionally he can be  _ none _ of those things. Occasionally like right now.

“You wanna practice?” Riz asks.

Fabian chokes. “What?”

“Like, practice? For Aelwyn? I mean, I don’t think I’ll be able to tell if you’re good or bad at it or whatever, but.”

“Are you serious, The Ball?” And because he can’t see his face, Riz has absolutely no idea what emotion is wrapping itself around Fabian’s voice.

“Yeah? That’s not cheating, right? As long as it’s just practice?” Riz doesn’t want to be the reason Fabian and Aelwyn break up, even though he’s pretty sure it’s bound to happen eventually. He’s also not keen on getting involved in relationship drama—exemption from that nonsense was supposed to be a benefit of all the aro and ace stuff he’d worked through earlier that year.

“I don’t think so,” Fabian says, quieter than before.

“Then, yeah. If you want to kiss I’m down.”

Fabian snorts again, and Riz sees the shadows shift as he presumably pushes himself up on his elbows to look down at him, “You literally are down, yes.”

Riz pokes him in the calf, hard and right in the muscle so it definitely stings a little bit, “Hey, if you haven’t learned when to give up, then that’s on you. I could keep this up for hours.”

“No, no, The Ball. I,  _ hrm, _ have fully given up, whatever.”

“You know what that is, Fabian? That’s growth,” Riz says, and has to dodge another retaliatory kick.

“So, uh, about the kissing…” Fabian trails off and makes one of those aborted half-laugh, half-audible-cringe sounds.

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine. It’s whatever, man.” _‘_ Man’ is a word Ragh would use in this situation, so Riz figures it’s safe. He can picture Ragh and Fabian doing this, even Gorgug and Ragh. Which is weird, that Riz can picture Fabian kissing one of their friends more easily than his girlfriend. He usually abandons the line of insight around this point.

“No, no, I, yep,” Fabian says, way too quickly.

Riz snorts. “What? You really wanna get your kisses in  _ that _ bad?”

“Shut up,” Fabian huffs.

“Aw, don’t be like that. I could care less how much you want to kiss me.”

_ “The Ball, _ that’s so rude. Maybe I don’t want to anymore.”

“Wait! I didn’t mean it like that! I meant, uh, like it’s fine if you want to because I won’t judge, not that I don’t want you to want to kiss me.”

“You… want me to want to kiss you?”

Riz, who had pushed himself up so he was semi-sitting, flops back down onto Fabian’s too nice carpet. “This is way too confusing.”

“You’re telling me.” Fabian mutters, and then says louder, “Well, The Ball? You still game?”

“Uh,” Riz knows Fabian will let him off the hook if he really doesn’t want to. He knows because Fabian is a good person who cares about him, and he might whine about it for a while but he’d never hold it against him. “Yeah, sure.”

_ “Hell _ yes. Get your ass up here, The Ball.”

“Eager,” Riz complains lightheartedly, and leaps up onto the bed next to Fabian.

He’s sitting much like Riz was, half-laying down and propped up on his elbows, and Riz has to blink a little to focus. Fabian is… he’s good looking, okay? Riz has always been aware that he’s attractive, because he won’t shut up about it half the time. So, yeah, he looks good. But he’s also  _ Fabian, _ Riz’s best friend, and sometimes being around someone you care about that much can be a little overwhelming.

“Oh, dude, come on,” Riz says, once he makes it past Fabian’s pretty face and to his arm that is still wrapped with the headphone flail.

“I had to be prepared for a counterattack, The Ball.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Riz reaches out and unwinds the chord from around Fabian’s arm, whacking him with the (now slightly mangled) headphones one last time before chucking them at the desk. He feels bad, to wreck something so nice, but Fabian was kind of the one who started the actual damage.

“You’re ridiculous-er,” Fabian says, and sticks his tongue out.

“Um, okay. We’re gonna move past that.” Riz scooches back over, and decides to finally go for a supporting-arm-touch, patting awkwardly at Fabian’s shoulder. “How do you wanna do this? I mean, if we’re practicing, do I have to pretend I’m Aelwyn?”

Fabian makes a face, “Um, no, The Ball. Gross. You aren’t my girlfriend.”

“And thank Cass for that, but you didn’t answer my question.”

Fabian makes another face, “Don’t make this weird.”

“I’m not making it weird, Fabian! I just like to have a plan when doing new things and frankly this is one of the  _ newest—” _

“The Ball?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t make this weird.” Fabian sits up and slides back, so his back is pressed to the wall, and reaches a hand out that Riz gladly takes. He pulls him forward, so that Riz is kneeling next to Fabian’s hip, mostly at the same level. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Okay,” Riz says, dumbly.

Fabian slides one of his hands into Riz’s hair, cupping his cheek and skimming his thumb slightly over Riz’s cheekbone. Riz flinches, reflexively, and Fabian moves to pull back but stops when Riz grabs his wrist.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, and Fabian shakes his head.

“It’s okay, The Ball. You don’t have to be sorry. You’re sure?”

Riz thinks and then nods. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Just tell me if I do something you don’t like.”

“Hey, I’m not the bad kisser here.”

Fabian smiles but pulls back to flick him on the cheek. “Watch it, The Ball.”

“Right, sorry.”

“Can I kiss you?” Fabian asks this time, returning his hand to Riz’s cheek.

And, once again, Riz doesn’t really think. “Please.”

The first touch of Fabian’s lips against his is tentative, gentle. Fabian pulls back half a second later and his breath brushes over Riz’s lips, and Riz can’t really judge how good or bad Fabian is at this whole thing from just one touch, so he reaches up and grabs him by the back of the neck, yanking him in.

Kissing, Riz decides, is sort of weird and sort of wet in a bad way and sort of nice, because it’s Fabian. Riz guesses he probably can’t know that last one for sure yet, because he’s only going off of the one kiss, but he’s also pretty certain that it’s true, which is concerning. He shouldn’t want to keep kissing Fabian. This is just  _ practice. _ This is just… Riz knows that wanting to continue this would mean something different to someone else, to someone like Fabian. He knows because he’s thought long and hard about it and figured out that kind of thing isn’t for him, but this kind of thing might be. If it’s someone like Fabian.

They kiss like that for a while, closed mouths and the warm brush of Fabian’s hands against Riz’s face, before Fabian pulls away again, pupil blown wide. “So, how is it?”

“I mean. Pretty good, Fabian, I don’t know what you want me to tell you.” Riz moves to brush his hair out of his eyes but Fabian does it for him, pushing the longer strands behind his large ears with a tenderness that causes Riz’s heart to warm.

“Great. You wanna keep going?”

“How much, uh, how much practice do you need?”

“Oh, loads. Just. So much practice. Aelwyn said I was  _ really _ bad.”

“I don’t really—”

“The Ball?”

“What? And stop interrupting me.”

“Just kiss me.”

“Pushy.”

Riz kisses him.

Again and again and again, until his lips are feeling weirdly puffy or bruised or something and his hands are gripping onto Fabian’s shoulders, being mindful of his claws, and he’s wound up sitting half in Fabian’s lap half off. The first time Riz moves his mouth away from Fabian’s to see what this whole neck-kissing thing is about, Fabian tips his head back so fast he cracks it on the wall, which leads to about five minutes of damage control and whining before they reorient with Fabian lying down in his plush pillows and Riz straddling somewhere in the vicinity of his abs.

“How about now?” Fabian asks, hands buried deep into Riz’s hair and mouth moving along his jaw.

“Still pretty good, I think.”

Fabian snorts.

“Is, uh, is Aelwyn always on top of you like this?”

“Well, no.”

“Do you wanna switch? Get some, huh…” Riz trails off as Fabian nips at his collarbone, distracted. It’s comforting, to have someone hold him like this, focus so wholly on him like this. “Get some different practice in. Like if Aelwyn and you were kissing differently?”

“Riz?”

“Yeah?”

“Stop talking about Aelwyn.”

Kissing is one thing but kissing with tongues is another and Riz isn’t entirely sure he likes it, Fabian or no. He pulls away when Fabian tries too much, and Fabian responds by dragging Riz’s hand to his mouth and kissing his wrist bone. He has  _ no _ idea what Aelwyn was talking about, because Fabian’s pretty close to sweeping Riz off his feet, and they’re just practicing.

It feels less and less true the more Riz thinks it.

“Um, hey? The Ball?” Fabian mumbles into the air as Riz is starting to sort of maybe attack his neck, fascinated by the feeling of it. “So, like, obviously you don’t have to. This is, ah-ha, more than enough already and you aren’t obligated to… whatever. Can you, ah, would you be okay with—?” He loses his train of thought, hands running gently over Riz’s back.

“What?” Riz says into the skin of Fabian’s neck.

“Right. Ah. Well. Would you be okay if I… take my shirt off?”

He presses one last kiss to the skin of Fabian’s neck before sitting back on his haunches, looking at him. “Do you ever do that with Aelwyn?”

“What did I tell you, The Ball? Stop talking about Aelwyn.”

“You called me Riz.”

Fabian licks his lips. “Yeah. I did.”

Riz lets his fingers skim under the hem of Fabian’s shirt, brushing at the skin. “This, um, this doesn’t feel super right, morally.”

“It’s just practice, it isn’t cheating.”

“See, when we said that before it felt true but now… I just don’t know. And you, well, you know I’m aro, right?”

Fabian blinks at him, and then smiles, “Yeah, of course. That’s old news, The Ball.”

“And you know that, um, it still counts as cheating… if you kiss me as, like, hypothetically, a non-practice thing and Aelwyn didn’t tell you it’s okay.”

“Er. I did  _ some  _ research, but I still don’t really…” Fabian trails off, clearly thinking. “You still want to kiss me, right? I’m not forcing you into anything?”

“It isn’t really the kissing that I like. It’s about being close to you. Because you’re my best friend. I just don’t want  _ that _ to be a deal breaker. Like the whole no-romance-from-me-thing, I mean. I obviously, um, I still care about you. A lot.”

“Oh. Huh. Okay. I think, well, I think that’s what kissing should be about anyway, in the long run.”

“Yeah, me too,” Riz says. “But also I just, want to, like, this is  _ extremely _ morally grey and I’m not sure how you or I should feel about it.”

Fabian pushes himself up more, grabbing for Riz’s hands and pulling them to his chest. “Hey, I’m not gonna make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with. And you’re, uh, you’re really important to me, The Ball. And you know I’ll always support you. I have to, uh, you know that isn’t how I am, I’m not ace. Or aro. But. No, not but.  _ And _ I want to make sure you’re as, um, comfortable as possible? And not pressured into anything? Because there isn’t, uh, there aren’t any expectations. On my end.”

Riz kind of feels like crying. He doesn’t know why. “You’re my best friend, Fabian,” he says instead.

“You’re, um,” Fabian says, and Riz knows it’s still hard for him to get this out, so he doesn’t expect much. “You’re mine too. You’re my… uh, you’re my best friend, The Ball.”

Riz might cry. Or throw up. He really hopes he doesn’t throw up.

“You’re looking a little green,” Fabian says, like he can sense Riz’s thought process, and then cracks an insufferable smile.

“Oh, haha, laugh it up. Very funny. Goblin jokes, how original.”

Fabian snickers, “It  _ was  _ funny.”

“...Okay, yeah. It was.”

Fabian shifts and there’s a crunching sound from the bed. “Uh, Riz?”

“Yeah?”

“I think your homework’s a little, uh, not in one piece.”

Riz immediately goes to scramble off of him and assess the damage level but, after a millisecond of panic, he realizes that Fabian is still holding his hands to his chest and he doesn’t want to move quite yet. “It’s just chemistry. I hate that class anyway.”

Fabian smirks, “Fuck chemistry.”

“Fuck chemistry,” Riz nods, and then unwinds his hands slightly from Fabian so he can spread them out, palms down on his chest and pressing onto the spaces around his heart.

“Now  _ I’m _ the one making this weird,” Fabian says, back to the whole shirt thing, with a slightly awed face. Riz can’t really tell what that expression is about.

“No, you’re not. Just… I feel bad. You’re dating someone, and I feel like I’m taking advantage, and Aelwyn isn’t, well, I don’t really want to hurt her.” Aelwyn might not be Riz’s best friend, but she is the sister of his best friend, and she’s dating his other best friend, so he has to care about her by default. Also, he’s pretty sure this would feel just as wrong if Fabian were dating some random person from Mumple—although the mental image of Fabian dating anyone from  _ Mumple _ is enough to cut the tension in Riz’s brain.

“It’s okay,” Fabian says, hands wrapped loosely around Riz’s wrists.

“...What’s okay?”

“All of it. It’s all okay.”

“You’re so unhelpful.”

“Is that a ‘thank you’ I hear?”

Riz bends down and nips at Fabian’s cheek, because he still doesn’t want to move his hands. They’re doing something important, even if that important thing is just connecting him to Fabian. “No, it’s a ‘you aren’t making this whole moral dilemma thing any easier by looking like that.’”

Fabian makes a face straight out of a comic book—surprised and excited—and then laughs, a little, “Really, and how is that?”

“Uh, dumb.”

Fabian’s face falls.

“No, no, no. You’re not dumb! You’re, uh, well…” Riz isn’t sure what to say that won’t ruin this tentative bubble of comfort they’ve found themselves in, a comfort without any expectations or demands. “Distracting,” he settles on, because it’s true even when practice kissing hadn’t been on the table.

Fabian sighs and nods, “I’ve been told it’s my only redeeming quality.”

“Fabes, you’ve got plenty of others. Like, uh, you’re nice.”

He laughs, “Fabian Aramais Seacaster is not  _ nice.” _

“You are! This whole time you’ve cared so much for how I’m feeling and what I want and that’s one of the biggest ways you can be nice, Fabian.”

They’re moving before Riz has a chance to process, Fabian grabbing at Riz’s waist and twisting them around so he’s flipped their positions—Riz hitting the pillows with an  _ oof. _

Fabian holds himself up over him, smiling so wide Riz has to grin back, “I’m  _ not _ nice.”

“You are!”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

Fabian smiles even wider, and then tickles Riz’s sides. Riz nearly doubles over, or would if Fabian weren’t keeping him pinned down, his leg kicking involuntarily and laughter punching from his chest. 

“Take it back,” Fabian says as Riz laughs.

And Riz can’t really talk like this because he’s spending all of his energy on making sure he’s breathing and not cutting things with his claws, so he just shakes his head as hard as he can as his full laughter starts to turn into breathless giggles. He’s still shaking his head, actually, when Fabian stops, and Riz has to take a second to pry his eyes open and make sure everything’s okay. Fabian’s watching him with just… one of the softest expressions Riz has ever seen, smile and eye all crinkled up and warm. Riz feels his cheeks flush.

“Hey, The Ball,” Fabian says. Riz doesn’t think he’s heard that tone of voice directed at anyone who isn’t Cathilda or Fabian’s Papa, soft and indulgent in a way Fabian so rarely is with anyone but his family.

“Hi.”

“You’re, um, well, you’re very handsome.”

“Oh. Are compliments always a part of kissing?”

Fabian shrugs, as much as he can when he’s supporting himself on his hands, “They should be.”

“Okay, then. You’re really pretty.”

“Truer words never spoken.”

“Shut up,” Riz says, and pushes at Fabian’s face.

“Can I kiss you again?” Fabian says into the palm of Riz’s hand.

“Yeah. Can I…?” They’re practicing, they’re  _ practicing, _ this is all  _ fine, _ it doesn’t have to mean anything more than Riz lets it, than Riz wants it to. He’s starting to realize he wants Fabian to keep looking at him like this, to keep holding him like this, and he wants to hold Fabian like that too. “Can I take your shirt off?”

“Oh. I thought you didn’t want me to.”

“No. It’s, uh, it’s just practice, right?”

“Sure.”

Riz blows out a breath, “Yeah, I want you to.”

“Fucking sick,” Fabian says, and then moves to tug at his shirt. Riz considers stopping him, insisting on doing it, but Fabian’s already moving and, honestly, Riz is pretty happy just to hang out here.

The soft warm light from the windows dips its fingers into the muscles of Fabian’s torso, illuminating the slim bulk of his shoulders and flex of his biceps as he chucks his shirt away. Riz has seen him shirtless before, so many times—on the bloodrush field and after a battle and just coming out of the shower—but it’s still a little weird to see him shirtless and think,  _ Okay, I can probably touch him now if I wanted. If he wanted. _

“Can I—?” Riz asks, letting his hands hover.

“Just, uh, stay away from my scars,” Fabian says, and Riz’s eyes reflexively dip down to the faded lines from his top surgery.

“Of course.”

Riz goes with what’s already been established as okay, grabbing onto the skin near Fabian’s neck and letting his thumbs rub gently over Fabian’s collarbone. Fabian’s got those puppy dog eyes again, and that soft expression from earlier is back in full force.  _ He’s my best friend, _ Riz thinks, and smiles up at him.

“I know I said you’re pretty, but you’re handsome, too.”

“Thanks, The Ball.”

“I mean it.”

“I know. Thank you.”

Fabian ducks down to kiss him, softly, on the corner of his mouth. A part of Riz is distantly aware that Fabian’s whole kissing technique might not be amazing, but also it’s  _ Fabian _ he can’t be  _ bad _ at it. It’s a little perfect, actually.

The sun shines in through the window and covers them in a soft golden blanket, pooling in the wrinkles of Fabian’s sheets and stretching across the mural on his wall. The gaming computer is long since asleep, headphones tossed haphazardly onto the desk where they’d knocked over a cup of pencils. Fabian’s shirt, bunched up and caught on his chair, is teetering just on the edge of falling on top of Riz’s discarded briefcase. Outside, birds chirp from the rigging and the Hangman’s distant revving echoes where he’s trying to scare them away. It’s spring, almost summer, and the world is changing and growing and gold again, but a little slow. A little unsteady. There’s supposed to be another wave of cold soon, anyway, before the seasons really commit, but the greenery and birds outside are still testing the waters. Still practicing.

Riz holds either side of Fabian’s face and kisses him as hard as he can.

“The Ball,” Fabian says, when he pulls away again.

“Yeah?”

“I—”

The door swings open.

“Ah, well, hello, Fabian, your mother— Oh.”

Fabian shouts, which startles Riz, and they both spring up into a fighting stance, Fabian grabbing the closest available object to throw which, coincidentally, is Riz. They’re still on a bed though, and all the moving around causes it to shift just enough to mostly knock Fabian over, because he can’t use his hands to catch himself when he’s holding Riz like a bloodrush ball.

_ “Gilear, _ what the  _ fuck?!” _ Fabian bellows, raising Riz as if to throw him.

Riz is actually kind of down with getting chucked around in battle, but this is  _ definitely _ not a battle, it’s just Gilear Faeth having the absolute worst timing of anyone on the planet.

“I, uhh, well. You seem to be, uh, busy,” Gilear looks more than mildly uncomfortable, and in more than mild pain on top of that.

“We were, in fact, busy,” Fabian snaps, and then blanches. “I mean. No. Not busy. Not  _ busy _ busy. Shut up.”

“Okay,” Gilear groans and sinks a little bit against the door frame.

“Uh, Gilear, what happened?” Riz asks, because someone should and it definitely won’t be Fabian.

“I, well, I was eating yogurt, you know. And the spoon, I had used the spoon too many times, and it whittled down to a sort of point, and I—”

“How’d you whittle a spoon just by eating with it, Gilear?”

“—I… Hm?”

“How’d you… never mind.”

“Very well. Um. I stabbed myself with the spoon in the, er, uh, the back of the arm. I tried to pull it out myself but I couldn’t see it and I think I just got it deeper in there.”

“Jesus,” Riz says, not sure if he should laugh or cry.

“Oh my god, Gilear, get out.” Fabian demands, dropping Riz unceremoniously onto the bed in order to point menacingly at the door.

Gilear does everything but get out. “The lady Hallariel told me to see you, uh, because you leveled up recently and have Cure Wounds. But I’m not sure if that will help, Cure Wounds tends to give me a rash.”

“Cure Wounds gives you a rash?” Riz asks, at the same time Fabian says, “Absolutely not.”

Gilear, of course, chooses the option that lets him keep talking, “Yes, I develop a rash on my forearms and my neck whenever healing magic is cast on me. It’s extremely uncomfortable and I—”

_ “Gilear,” _ Fabian says.  _ “Leave.” _

“I am starting to lose feeling in my entire body, though, so I think a rash might be the way to go,” he plows on.

“Fabian,” Riz says, poking at his leg.

“What, The Ball?”

“Just heal him and then he’ll leave.”

“No, it’s about the principle of the—”

“Fabian?”

_ “What?” _

“He’s bleeding on your carpet.”

_ “Goddammit.” _ Fabian leaps off of the bed, marching for Gilear and grabbing his arm.

Riz winces when he catches sight of the wound—the spoon is  _ still _ in there—and looks away from where Fabian is poking at it harsher than needed and striking a pose with his other hand, channeling his magic to stitch up the wound. Gilear is watching Riz, staring at him in a way that makes Riz shift uncomfortably on the bed.

“There, do you want your… knife?” Fabian asks, holding up the bloody remnants of the spoon.

“Ah, no,” Gilear says, taking it anyway. “It holds only suffering for me now.”

“Oh, okay,” Fabian says, and then blinks. “Hey, you can  _ leave _ now.”

_ Uh oh, _ Riz thinks as Gilear steels himself. “I may not be your father, but I am engaged to be married to your mother, and I—”

“No. No, no,  _ no, _ this is not happening,” Fabian mutters, an incredulous, fake smile on his face.

“I think it… behoves young boys like, ehm, yourselves, to have this conversation with someone they look up to…”

“Listen, Gilear, I don’t want to be mean—” Riz starts, but shuts up when Gilear levels another sleepy but intense look at him.

“No, The Ball, please be mean.”

Gilear is not dissuaded, “I realize I am not an, uh, authority figure for either of you. Which is good. I do not function well under pressure.”

“You’re the vice principal of our school,” Riz sighs.

“I am happy to know that you trust me,” Gilear says, nodding like he’s pretty sure this is the right thing to say. “It can be hard to hide a relationship. When I was your age with all of my lady friends, I can still remember what it felt like to juggle—”

“‘Lady friends?’ Gilear. Just.  _ Stop.” _

“We aren’t—” Riz tries, but Gilear interrupts again.

“I simply wanted to make it, er, known that I am supportive of both of your decisions.”

“There haven’t been any decisions!” Fabian exclaims, and Riz is suddenly glad that Gilear took the knife-spoon back. “We haven’t decided anything!”

“First relationships can be complicated, especially if they happen in high school. Pressures from peers and—”

“Gilear, are you just reciting a presentation you had to give to the freshmen?” Riz asks because that’s better than participating in this line of conversation.

“Heh?”

“Are you… Okay, not worth it. Nope.”

Fabian claps his hands together, the sound pulling their attention to him. “Okay, Gilear, I was starting to like you better. Or, well, okay, at least I wasn’t threatening bodily harm anymore.”

“Yes, I am not unhappy that phase is over,” Gilear says.

_ “But,  _ The Ball is aroace and if you imply  _ anything _ differently I will have to punch, er, threaten physical violence on you. It’s in the bro code.”

“Yeah! I shot my tits off to be protected by the bro code!” Riz says, trying and failing not to crack up, but also smiling  _ so wide _ because Fabian is  _ so _ validating when he wants to be. When it’s important.

“You shot your… It seems I am, er, operating on false information. On all fronts. I apologize for any impropriety.”

Fabian sighs and points to the door, “Apology accepted if you just  _ leave.” _

Gilear clears his throat, looks between them, and then nods to Riz. “Congratulations on, uh, being transgender.”

Riz bursts out laughing.

Gilear nods again, slips the knife-spoon into his pocket, and walks out of the door—as much as Gilear ever “walks” anywhere, it’s more of a staggering stumble. Riz can hear, through the wood, when Gilear pulls out his crystal and says, “Hi, yes, daughter of mine? What does aroace mean?”

_ Good. _ Riz did not want to deal with that whole explanation.

“He is the absolute  _ worst,” _ Fabian grumbles, shoulders slumping as he turns to look at Riz. “He didn’t even let me put a shirt on before impaling himself.”

“I don’t really think he was expecting to be impaled today.”

“Whatever. Plan ahead, Gilear!”

Riz snorts.

Fabian’s eyes skip over Riz’s features, and then he turns wholly away, grabbing his shirt from the chair and tugging it on. “So, um, that kind of ruined the mood.”

“It’s fine,” Riz says, still smiling. “But, um, now that we aren’t actively doing anything we should probably talk more.”

“Oh. Yeah…”

“So. I’m aroace,” Riz says again. “Just. Putting everything out there.”

“Yeah. I know, The Ball.”

“Awesome. Great.”

“Yeah. You are great, The Ball.”

“Oh, um, thanks,” Riz scratches at the back of his neck. “This is going to be, um, kind of a lot of just… rambling. From me. If that’s okay.”

“Go ahead,” Fabian says, and plops down into his gaming chair.

Riz takes a seat on the bed. “So. Uh. Okay. There’s like… no one way to be aroace, right? Like some people really don’t want to kiss or be involved with other people, but some people do? And not saying that you have to do those things because you want to, just, um… yeah. I think I’m… This is all so confusing because it’s not even like a relationship is on the table.”

“What if, sorry,” Fabian interrupts. “What if there was?”

“Right now you’re dating Aelwyn, and I don’t even know what a relationship would look like from me. What that would, what that would involve. I don’t know if it would be… enough for you.”

Fabian looks up at him, startled and then serious, “Stop, The Ball. Don’t ever devalue yourself like that. You will always be enough for me, even if that enough means being my, um, my best friend and nothing more.”

“Oh, uh,” Riz says, and then nods because he isn’t sure how to respond to that. “That’s, thank you.”

“And, well,  _ ah-ha, _ Aelwyn broke up with me two weeks ago.”

_ “What?” _ Riz shrieks, nearly leaping off of the bed and at Fabian.

“Yeahhhhhh,” Fabian looks away, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have, now that was all, like, coercion or something. I didn’t mean, um, I was just embarrassed.”

_ “That’s _ why you were so mopey last Monday,” Riz says, connecting the dots. “Oof, and Tuesday. And Wednesday. Oh, like, two blocks of Thursday, too.”

“Wow, The Ball, way to rub it in.”

“Hey! You’re the one who let me think I was doing some sort of cheating thing with you!”

Fabian looks at him now, solemn, “I am sorry about that. Truly. It wasn’t my intention to… Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay, Fabian,” Riz says. “I forgive you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I’m going to anyway.”

“Alright, The Ball.”

“Alright, Fabian.”

They sit in silence, watching each other for a few minutes.

“Eh, sorry,” Fabian says, waving his hand. “What were you saying before?”

“Oh. Right. Just that, um, I still haven’t worked everything out. And now this has changed  _ everything.” _

“Still sorry about that.”

“Still forgiving you. Just, uh, I think I liked kissing you? Not, um, not because of the kissing but because of the you. What are your thoughts about it?”

Fabian flushes. “Well. I liked the, um, the kissing. Because of the kissing. And because of the you.”

“Good to know.”

“Yeah. Um, okay, so I’m not entirely sure what we’re discussing here but, um, is it wrong if, say, hypothetically, I liked an aro person in a romantic way?”

Riz levels a look at him, “It would depend on the aro person. Like, this aro person right here, for example, would probably be okay with it.”

“Oh, sweet,” Fabian says, nodding to himself, before grinning at Riz. “I like you. Gods, that was so much harder when I was still obsessing over it in my head.”

Riz laughs, “I kind of had guessed. But. Um. Thanks, that means a lot.”

“You’d guessed?” Fabian exclaims.

“Yeah, like, two seconds ago when you immediately followed up me saying I’m aro with ‘oh is it okay to like an aro person.’ You weren’t exactly subtle, Fabian.”

“Excuse you, I’m  _ plenty _ subtle. I’ve got subtlety practically  _ dripping _ off of me.”

“You so do not.”

“Oh,” Fabian sticks his tongue out, making a noise to go along with it.

Riz sticks his tongue out in return.

“Now that Aelwyn is, uh, obviously out of the equation,” Fabian says, sobered up again. “Would you be interested in, uh, discussing more about, eh, other options?”

“Yeah. What’re you thinking about?”

“Well. I want to date you. In a romantic way, on my end.”

“I obviously don’t want to, uh, in a romantic way.”

“Right. So, is there a way to take the romance out of it? For you.”

“Isn’t dating just… an agreement to prioritize the other person? Or, persons, I guess, but that doesn’t really apply here. Like, can’t it just mean spending time together and backing each other up and counting on each other?”

“It can, The Ball. If that’s what we want it to mean.”

“And, again, I’m obviously okay with kissing you. Which is just another expression of emotion that has been equated to romantic love in our society.”

“Right.”

“So we could change the meaning behind that, too.”

“I mean, Gorgug kisses us  _ all _ the time,” Fabian says, thoughtfully.

“He’s never kissed  _ me,” _ Riz complains.

“He probably doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Because you haven’t talked with him about this stuff.”

“Oh. That makes sense. Anyway, back to us. I think I would be… happy with dating you. If what we were just saying is how it would be like.”

“Okay,” Fabian says, trying and failing to hide his excitement.

“There’s more stuff we’d have to figure out, stuff to discuss, but, uh, yeah. I think I’d like that.”

“I know  _ I’d _ like that, The Ball. And I want you to know, too. Before we rush into anything.”

“Alright. That’s fair.” Riz laughs, a little uncomfortably, “Sorry, I feel like this just came out of nowhere.”

“It didn’t, for me at least,” Fabian says. “This was going to happen one day, on my end. I’m glad it’s happening now.”

“That’s, uh, that’s good to know, Fabian.”

“So. We’re gonna wait? And figure this out more?”

“Yeah, if that’s what you want.”

“I want you to be comfortable, The Ball.”

“I am. When I’m with you, I am.”

“Huh-uh, hm.” Fabian says, blushing even more. “Is it okay… is it okay if I kiss you again?”

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

Things are still complicated, still messy and muddled and unclear, but Riz knows they’ll figure it out. In time. And right now everything is okay because Fabian and Riz are standing up, in the space between the chair and the bed, and Riz is bouncing up on his tiptoes and Fabian is bending down  _ really _ far, and they’re meeting in the middle.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! this fic only exists in this iteration because of sofi @/capybart, who read over sections for me, talked with me about this fic for probably too long, and who i had just one of the best discussions about aroace-spec relationships and complexities with. seriously, i don't really know how to put the impact they had on this fic into words, so thank you sofi, you're literally incredible.
> 
> i'm on tumblr at [labelleofbelfastcity](https://labelleofbelfastcity.tumblr.com/) if you want to stop by!! don't be shy to leave a comment, and have a great day/night!!


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